


Blow Us All Away

by JustAnotherFan94



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Being an Asshole, Angry Alexander Hamilton, Community: freeversefic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Free Verse, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Minor Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Minor Philip Hamilton/Theodosia Burr Alston, Spoken Word, phildosia, philipxtheodosia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherFan94/pseuds/JustAnotherFan94
Summary: “You really are your father’s son. My God, you could talk for weeks .”Philip smirks, “Please. My Pops could talk circles around me.”“Maybe,” Theodosia nods, “But one things’ true.”“What’s that?”“The rumor of your resemblance… Except, you’re a little cuter.”Philip can feel his cheeks blazing, gazing at Burr’s daughter.“Yeah?” Philip quips, “Well, you’re way hotter than your father.”
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Theodosia Burr Alston/Philip Hamilton
Comments: 16
Kudos: 95





	1. In Which Philip Brings a Guest to Dinner

_‘No doubt about it. Philip is blushing.’_

Alexander watches. Philip’s freckled cheeks are reddened from madly rushing to hold open the door. In walks a young woman Alexander’s never seen before. Her skin is ebony. Her hazel eyes are delicate and smiling. There is an heir about her that is somewhat beguiling. She curtsies in her violet petticoat. Philip struggles with a lump caught in his throat.

“Mother, Father,” Philip gulps, “C-can I have a guest for dinner?”

Alexander quirks an eyebrow and squints. He can’t quite pin it, but there’s something about her that’s familiar.

All the while, Eliza is beaming. She ushers the young woman to the kitchen.

“Why, of course you can!”

Alex elbows Philip and whispers, “Nice choice, young man.”

**“Pops!”** the teen hisses, “Please, keep your voice _down_.”

Alex smirks, “Oh, you _know_ that’s not happening while _I’m_ around.”

Once dinner begins, the girl is perfectly charming: complements the food, good with conversation and disarming. And funny! When little John C’s peas take a spill…

“Looks like they’re with ‘Pod’ now!” she jests.

She is as quick with a quip as Alex is with his quill. 

The children are practically squealing with glee! Little Eliza Hamilton hops on her knee.

“Lizzie, your manners!” her mother scolds.

“It’s quite alright,” the maiden laughs as she holds the tot on her knee, “She can sit with me.”

The child smiles with a “Weeee!”

“Oh my,” Eliza gasps, “Time’s gotten away from me. Children - come, let’s get ready for bed.”

William tugs Alexander’s coattail, “Do we gotta, Dad?”

Alex kisses his head, “You heard what your mother said.”

William sighes with dread. As do his siblings - James, Alexander and John.

“Come Angelica,” Eliza calls to her eldest daughter, “This won’t take long.”

They usher the children off in single file. As William passes the young lady, he shoots her a wide smile.

“G’night, pretty lady!”

His mother snips, “William, **please**.”

The young woman giggles. 

Philip groans, “Oh, jeez…”

As the other children (politely) say goodnight, Alexander sets his sights back on the young lady. He can’t help but think.

_‘Maybe if I study her, just once more, I’ll remember where I’d seen her before.’_

Still pondering, he is slightly alarmed as the charming young woman calmly taps Philip’s arm.

“You have quite the sweet family,” she says.

Philip rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“-And they’re all quite taken with you,” Alexander intrudes, “I can understand why Philip is, too.”

“ **_Pops…_ **”

He grits his teeth. Still, his father speaks.

“Really, you’re quite knowledgeable!”

The young lady nods, “It’s nice to have such conversation.”

“Now, tell me, dear. Where did you get your education?”

“ **Father** ,” Philip expectorates, “Perhaps _another_ time?”

“Time’s precious, my boy. Best try not to waste **mine**.”

The woman laughs, while Philip’s eye twitches in agitation.

_‘What are you up to, Old Man?’_ he desperately wants to shout. 

“Well,” she starts, “From Arithmetic, Latin, Music and French - my father wanted to ensure I was versed-”

Alex purses his lips and thinks, _‘Her_ _father_ _? Wait, that doesn’t make sense…’_

“Forgive me for intruding-”

“Oh, _here_ he goes,” Philip moans.

“It’s just that it’s usually customary for one’s _mother_ to tend to the children.”

The young woman frowns, “She did… Until she died when I turned eleven.”

There is a silence. Though it lasts a minute, the tone of the night is shallow and thin. Then, Eliza returns.

“All tucked in,” she grins.

This fades quickly as she reads the room.

“‘Something I missed?”

Philip rises from his chair. The woman’s face is clearly in despair.

“Let me take you home,” he says, holding his left arm out to her right.

“But,” Eliza ponders, “We haven’t had dessert yet.”

“...’Lost my appetite.”

The young woman takes his arm. They’re stopped before they reach the door. A hand claps Philip’s shoulder.

It’s Alexander.

“One more thing…”

In his violet eyes, a spark thrives. He’s done it. He’s connected the dots. 

“Young lady, I beg your pardon. In all the excitement, we neglected your _name_.”

“ **Father-** ”

“It’s perfectly fine, sir.”

She extends her hand to Alexander.

“My name is Theodosia… Theodosia Burr.”

_‘Ah, there it is.’_

No longer a toddler is Theodosia Burr. Alexander hadn’t seen her since he and Burr were on speaking terms. Yes, much taller and grown since then (since, well… God knows when).

He doesn’t even have to ask. He knows. He grins.

“And your father’s first name?”

She bows her head.

“...His name is Aaron.”

“ **Goooodnight, Ms. Burr**!”

“W-what!? Pops!”

“Philip, it’s alright,” she turns to Alex and Eliza, “Thank you for supper. Goodnight.”

Eliza shoots up from the table.

“Ms. Theodosia, stay!”

“No, I should go… It’s getting dark anyway.”

“And I’m sure your **father’s** wondering **where you’ve been**!”

“ **Alexander** -” Eliza seethes.

“-And shut that **door** when you leave.”

Theodosia bows, releases her grip on Philip’s arm and rushes out. In her stride, she shoots Philip a look through tear-drenched eyes.

“I told you so.” she says.

“Theo, **No!** ” he cries, “Please don’t go.”

His fists are clenched, storming back inside the house again.

“Pops, why did you **do** that?!”

“Philip. Sit down”

“Tell me, now!”

“ **Phillip James Hamilton**. **_Si’down_ ** , **now.** ”

His father’s tone is severe. He hesitates to revere his father’s orders. Philip’s words fall flat. 

“Pops, _why_ did you do that?”

“Did **what** ?” he scowls, “Ask a _traitor_ to leave our house?!”

“She’s not a traitor.”

“No, just her _father_. Who **stripped** _your_ grandfather’s honor, no less!”

He approaches his eldest, “But I digress. The point is, Philip, you _lied_ to me and your mother. How **could** _you_?!”

“I-I thought, maaaaybe if you got to know her-”

“Oh! And _then_ we’d fall head over heels? Plan the wedding over tea? What about your **ideals**?! What about your mother and-”

Alexander’s face is growing hotter and hotter as he hollers.

“How long has... _‘this’_ been going on?”

“Well-”

“And you’d **damn** well better be _honest_ with me.”

“Alright! I’d say… Two months?”

“ **Two MONTHS**?!”

“Maaaaybe three?”

“ **Are you** **_shitting_ ** **me**?!”

“Alexander,” Eliza insists, her voice tough, “That’s **enough**.”

Her eyes pierce as Alexander gawks. It’s like she’s sending a telepathic message.

_‘We need to talk.’_

“Go to your room,” Alexander orders Philip.

“Wait a minute,” Philip retorts, “I’m not a _child_ . You **can’t** punish me. I-I’m grown!”

“ _You wanna_ **_bet_ **?” 

“Philip,” Eliza intrudes, “We need to speak _alone_. Please.”

Visibly defeated, Philip trudges upstairs. His pouncing pounds the boards.

“ **Hey!** ” Alex cries, “You’ll wake the children!”

“Who cares?”

“ **_What?!_ **”

“Alexander, _please_ calm down.”

“Eliza, he'll wake them up. Don't-”

“And _your yelling_ won’t?”

For the first time all night, Alexander shuts up.

Delicately, Eliza takes her husband by the arm and guides him to the couch. Soft words are on her mouth.

“I know this is surprising.”

“Isn’t _that_ the understatement of the year.”

She hesitates, “I really don’t see what the problem is here.”

“Whadda you mean?!”

“That girl makes Philip happy. And she was perfectly kind.”

“Eliza,” he takes her hand, “Are you out of your _mind_? That’s no ordinary girl, that’s Aaron Burr’s daughter.”

“And Philip likes her,” she shrugs, “Does that make them pigs for slaughter?”

He sneers, “You think this is a game. You find this _funny_.”

“Well,” again, her shoulders rise and fall, “Kind of, honey!”

He wants to yell, but honestly… he’s too perplexed. Not to mention, from all the yelling, his throat feels somewhat vexed. Patiently, he watches his wife and he waits.

“Alex… Do you remember being _their_ age?”

Alexander scratches his chin. His reminiscing begins.

_‘How old is Philip? Seventeen?’_ Alex ponders to himself. He thinks back to his life before wealth - before health, before _a lot_ of things he hadn’t done yet. He turns to his wife.

“I try to forget,” he replies, furrowing his brow, “But I _do_ remember not having time to horse around.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Eliza states, clutching his arm, “They’re just _kids_ , Alexander… Really, what’s the harm?”

“But what of your father and this forbidden affair? What of his legacy?”

“I think it’s procured,” she whispers, “And, between you and me, there are more _important_ things than a legacy.”

She stands up.

“And a ‘forbidden affair’? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Alexander is flushed. He takes her hand.

“Eliza-”

“Alexander,” Eliza chides, “Try to see your son’s side in this.”

The man rises slowly, and caresses his wife’s cheek for a kiss.

“Talk to him, Alexander,” she insists and turns her head, “As for me? I’m going to bed.”

She glides from his embrace with sorrow on her face. Alexander huffs out a nearby candle.

_‘How am I gonna handle this?’_

He creeks up the steps. Philip's room greets him at the top. A calloused knuckle taps at the door.

“...Philip?”

“Pops?”

“Can… I come in?”

The knob on the door turns. Philip’s expression is firm.

“Look, I’m… sorry I-”

“No,” Alexander holds his hand an inch from the boy’s face, “Before you go, there’s… something I have to say…”

The young man crosses his arms, “‘Kay, go on?”

“Philip,” his father struggles to say, “I was wrong.”

It’s not very often Alexander Hamilton gets to say this. Needless to say, Philip is listless.

“Beg pardon?”

“Son, I’m _not_ gonna say it again.”

“Right, okay.”

“But you know,” Alex adds, “You’re wrong too, in a way.”

“Yeah,” Philip blushes, “That’s what I was gonna say.”

Alexander smiles, hugging his son tightly. His mighty embrace has Philip in a tight squeeze.

“Pop, I can’t breathe!”

“S-sorry!”

He quickly lets go with a laugh.

“Jeez, Pop! You’re sappy!”

Alexander looks his son in the eye.

“Does... she make you happy?”

Philip looks down, “Who, Theo? W-well, uh-"

“You can be honest, son,” Alex states, “I won’t get mad.”

He can barely help himself. A smirk creeps on his lips.

“Pops, I swear no other girl like her exists! She’s smart, and funny, and pretty, and nice, and smart- Wait, I already said that.”

Alexander couldn’t help but laugh watching his son stutter.

“You know, I felt the same way about your mother.”

Philip beams.

“Pop… What else can I say? As soon as I met her, she blew me away.”

He quickly frowns.

“But… No, her father-”

“Is a scoundrel and a cheat,” Alex adds, “But… I suppose there are far worse rats on the street.”

“Pops?”

“Look, let’s see how it goes. Does he know about you?”

“...No,” Philip sighs, “We were gonna tell you both. Theo wanted to, but I talked her out of it.”

“Because you thought we’d get mad?”

“Well, **you** did.”

“Hm, you’ve got a point about that,” Alex shrugs, “Alright. Go to bed. You’d better get some sleep.”

Back downstairs he creeps. Philip quirks an eyebrow.

“Pops, where ya goin’?”

He smirks.

“I’ve got a letter to write to some jerk.”

Alexander takes to his desk, freshens his quill with some ink. He wastes no time.

_‘Just write. Don’t think.’_

He hardly knows where to start. His brain’s in a whirl.

_“Greetings to you, Senator Burr, sir…”_


	2. In Which a Letter Arrives

He stands barrelled over outside of his home. 

His stance is piercing. Poignant. Cold.

Ice cold was the wind that blew past Aaron’s cheek.

Ice cold were his eyes: so angry, he could barely speak. 

Ice cold was the snow. Ice cold was the weather.

With ice cold hands, Aaron clenches the letter. 

* * *

_Greetings, Senator Aaron Burr, sir._

_I know it’s been quite some time since we conferred, sir._

* * *

“Yes, because the last time we spoke,” Burr says to himself, “You were angry that I took a seat in the Senate’s top shelf.” 

* * *

_Please know I wouldn’t write unless it was of utmost urgency._

_Though, I suppose this matter is not so severe._

_In summary, I write to inform you of some news._

_Please try to maintain your temperament when you do..._

_Philip, my eldest - My Pride, My Joy -_

_Is, at the end of the day... a boy._

* * *

“Oh boy...”

* * *

_And, as boys often do, they engage in sport._

_What I’m attempting to inform you is he’s been courting Theodosia._

* * *

“What?!” Aaron seethes, his pallor glowing red as he reads.

* * *

_For two month’s time (though, Philip claims, it could be three),_

_The two have been seeing each other, secretly, unbeknownst to me._

_How do I know now?_

_As you say, “Hate the sin, love the sinner.”_

_Last evening, Philip brought your daughter over for dinner._

* * *

“And Hamilton knew!”

* * *

_These plans were not revealed to me ahead of time._

* * *

“...Oh.”

* * *

_Philip gravely apologizes for acquitting such a crime._

* * *

“Cocky. The whole damn family. Insanity!”

* * *

_But, allow me to inform you of the fact you clearly know:_

_You raised a daughter who truly did blow us all away._

_Her manners are impeccable._

_She is skilled in conversation._

_She is versed in vast knowledge._

_My children spared no hesitation to each give her a hug as they bade her “goodnight”._

_What followed was truly a harsh sight..._

* * *

“Is that right?”

* * *

_As you can imagine, my deduction of her heritage left me nothing short of infuriated._

* * *

“What’s your point?!” Burr yells, agitated.

* * *

_See, this is where I am exonerated._

_Senator Burr, I can hear your voice echoing in the fray._

_“Alexander, get to the point:_

_Say what you have to say.”_

_Burr, I pray you’ll keep an open mind._

* * *

“Nope.”

* * *

_Burr, I pray you will attempt to be kind._

* * *

“I’ve got nothing.”

* * *

_I understand the children should have been forthcoming._

_Still, I remain we should accept this._

_We must keep them from running._

* * *

Heavily, Burr breathes.

* * *

_I know this is no union (God be with us, please)._

* * *

“ **Have mercy**.”

* * *

_Nevertheless, this still remains our reality._

_I'd like to propose an agreement of neutrality._

* * *

_**"Pardon me?!"** _

* * *

_This letter does not do the matter justice._

_Let’s discuss this. You and me._

_If you’re free this Saturday - say, around three?_

_You are welcome to my residency._

_I trust we’ll be able to speak sensibly?_

_Respectfully, we should discuss these matters privately._

_As for Philip, he will be at the local library._

_In that time, I pray Theodosia remains just as safe and lovely._

_I have the honor to be your obedient servant,_

A. Ham


* * *

Burr wants to crumble up the letter, but neatly folds it in his pocket. He debates with himself… Should he get a pistol and cock it? On his neck, he flips open a golden locket.

“Theodosia,” he whispers to the picture of his fair, late wife, “I won’t take this lying down. I swear on my life.”

“ **Theodosia!** ” he screams, a vein pops in his temple.

Out comes the hand-maid, lifting her wimple.

“Sir,” the maid says, her voice soft and clear, “Ms. Theodosia is not here.”

“ **Where is she, then**?”

The maid shook, “U-uptown for her piano lesson.”

Burr pauses, “Theodosia has piano today?”

Again, the maid nods, “Yes, sir. She goes _every_ Saturday.”

He checks his pocket watch. About half-past ten. He grins.

“Looks like it’s time to visit an old friend.”

He tightens his cloak and mounts his chocolate mare. 

“I should be back before dark.”

“Yes, master. Take care!”

His tongue clicks. The horse kicks and starts to trot. Burr’s face grows hot as he continues to think.

“I’ve gotta stop this damn thing.”


	3. In Which a Senator and a Bastard Meet

Eliza is readying the low-embered fire. Using her metal spear, she pokes at the pyre. All the while, her husband riddles her with questions. 

He’d never admit it, but this is clearly a sign of his apprehension. 

“And Philip is gone?”

“He left early this morning.”

“You’re _certain_?”

“Well, of course” she smiles warmly, “You certainly gave him a firm warning...”

* * *

_Down the steps, Philip tumbles. His stomach rumbles. He saunters to the kitchen table, reaching for a scone._

_“Mornin’, Pops,” he yawns._

_There is a pause. No response._

_Philip clears his throat, “Diiiid you sleep well?”_

_“Hardly,” Alexander says curtly, not looking up from the New York Post, “You’ll be interested to know that today, I play host.”_

_“Oh!” Philip admires, “Who’s visiting, Pops? Grandfather?”_

_“No, sir,” Alex replies, glancing up, “Senator Burr.”_

_Philip spits out his tea as he stirs._

_“WHAT?!”_

_His freckled cheeks start to glow._

_“Does he know?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Did you_ **_tell_ ** _him?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“W-what did he say?”_

_“Relax. We’re discussing it today.”_

_The teen scoots closer to his father: his young expression growing harder._

_“Is he mad?”_

_Alexander shrugs._

_“I suppose.”_

_Philip ponders, “What should I_ **_say_ ** _when I see him?”_

_“_ **_You_ ** _won’t be home.”_

_Visibly astonished as his father admonishes him, Philip rubs his chin with his thumb._

_“Huh?”_

_Alexander shoots his son a glance over his round-rimmed glasses._

_“Philip, let me make it perfectly plain. I informed Mr. Burr you’ll be at the_ **_‘library’_ ** _all day.”_

_“I_ **_am_ ** _?”_

_Alexander quirks an eyebrow._

_Philip hums, “Oh.”_

_“That’s right,”Alex states, looking Philip in the face, “You are_ **_not_ ** _to come near this house before dark. Do you hear?”_

_“But-”_

_“_ **_Philip._ ** _”_

_The young man sighes._

_“Crystal clear.”_

* * *

“I don’t believe I was **too** harsh.”

Eliza scoffs, “You never do.”

Before the debate can continue in jest, there is a pounding at the door - and in Alexander's chest.

Eliza playfully smirks.

“You have a guest.”

“Early,” Alex grumbles, beginning to mumble, “Just like in court. Always as _punctual_ as ever.”

“Alexander, you wouldn’t be _rude_ to him in your own house?”

“...Never.”

Her facade shifts.

“I’m _serious_.”

Alexander winks.

“Me too!”

She shuffles to the door, “We’ll have tea and cake once you’re both through.”

Alex rambles to the stairs, “Send him up to my study, if you don’t mind?”

“Alexander-”

He looks her in the eye.

“Please,” she begs, “Try to be kind. And keep _Philip_ on your mind?”

Sincerely, he nods in reply. 

“I… promise I’ll try.”

He continues up. Eliza heaves a breath once he’s out of sight. She turns the hallway, telling herself, ‘It’ll all be okay’.

There is a chill by the front door, a draft creeping in as she greets the guest.

“Mr. Burr!” she cries.

Burr bows, “Mrs. Hamilton!”

“Please, do come in.”

“So good to see you,” he compels as he enters, “All is well?”

“Certainly,” Eliza gestures to take his cloak, “Allow me?

“You’re too kind,” he complies, blood filling his cheeks, “I must apologize to you. I’m a bit early.”

“Completely fine,” she replies, “Alexander’s been expecting your arrival.”

Burr nods his head: hiding the fury at the very mention of his rival.

“And where is Alexander?”

“In his study,” she quips, “Where _else_ would he be?”

Burr laughs, “Ah, yes. You don’t have to tell me.”

Suddenly, Burr gasps. Something is wrapped around his knee.

“Wha-?”

“Hi!” the child smiles, “My name is William. I’m three!”

“ _William!_ ” Eliza scolds, “You’re supposed to be tidying up your room.”

William pouts, “I got bored.”

He looks up at Burr.

“I like you! You wanna play with me?”

Eliza scoops up the child, “Mr. Burr, if you’ll excuse me.”

Burr hums, “Quite alright. His study’s on the second floor?”

“Good memory,” Eliza prides.

“Well, I try.”

“You probably know,” she adds, “But it’s the second door on the right.”

“Yes, thank you,” Burr smiles.

Eliza and William travel down the hall. All by himself, Aaron adjusts his trousers as the grandfather clock chimes. It’s exactly two on the hour.

Burr climbs up the stairs: unprepared for what will happen next. 

_‘It’s fine, Aaron. Just like in court. State your case… Run like heck.’_

The stairs have leveled off. And, of course, who is there to greet him at the door?

The bastard. Orphan. Son of a whore.

He greets the Senator warmly: his excitement quite plain.

As they shake hands, Burr thinks, _‘Two can play at this game.’_

Alexander ushers Burr inside his study and cries, “Senator Burr, sir!”

“Alexander - No formalities, please.”

“If you’re sure, Burr. I must say, you’re looking well.”

“You’re too kind, sir. As for you…”

“Sir?”

“You look like Hell.”

“We both know I’ve looked worse, Burr.”

“Honestly, I, too, could say I’ve been better.”

Alex inquires, “Oh?”

Burr pulls the parchment from his pocket.

“‘Got your letter.”

“I figured,” Alex holds up his own papers, “‘Wanna trade?”

Burr takes the stack from Alexander’s hand and asks, “What are these?”

“As you know,” Alex’s law language cavorts, “In court, we’d call them ‘testimonies’.

Burr smirks.

“Does the evidence rest?”

“They’re love poems.”

“I’ve might’ve guessed,” Burr jests. 

He looks them over quickly - admiring the penmanship. Briskly, he scans the lines and tries to maintain composure. Each header reads, ‘Dearest Theodosia…”

“And who is the writer?” Burr playfully inquires.

Alexander replies, “‘Found them in his room, next to the fire.”

Burr nods.

“Burning the evidence. Remarkably clever!”

_‘Burr is level,’_ Alexander notices candidly, _‘Must’ve had a shot or two of Brandy.’_

“If you’ll pardon my candor-”

“I always do, Alexander.”

“You’re taking all of this news _remarkably_ well.”

“Well,” Burr remarks, “The orders in your letter rang clear as a bell.”

Burr lights one of the desk candles, though it’s still clear as day. Alex takes notice, but ignores it.

He continues, “And so what of the children? What do _you_ say?”

Burr holds up Alexander’s letter, dances it over the flame.

“Perhaps, we can make this problem go away.”

Alex squints.

“What are you suggesting?”

“What would it cost-”

“Oh, _speculation_!”

Burr smirks, “Wouldn’t you like to see an end to this aggravation?”

“Burr,” Alex groans, “Is this necessary? I mean, they’re just children.”

“So what would it matter to you or me?”

Alexander rubs his temple.

_‘God, can this be over?’_

“It’s not like Philip’s asking you to hand Theodosia over.”

There is a pause. 

“No, because Philip didn’t ask _me_ at all.”

“And I’ve already _told_ you... He knows he made the wrong call.”

“And that makes the issue go away? Ah, I see.”

“Burr, the qualm isn’t with _them_. It’s with you and me.”

Burr grabs a quill from Alexander’s desk.

“So what do _you_ suggest? We arrange the wedding vows?”

He slams Burr’s hand down.

“If you’re not taking this seriously, you can get the fuck out **_now_ **.”

Burr smiles. Alexander’s auburn hair goes slightly wild. His cheeks glow, grimace strong.

“Alexander, I’m surprised you managed to stay civil _this_ long.”

“Well, then allow me to ‘civilly’ say you’re _completely_ wrong!”

“I’m _wrong_ for wanting what’s best for my daughter?”

“No, you’re **wrong** for making a tough discussion even _harder_.”

“Alexander, let me be frank - I don’t _trust_ your son.”

“You don’t even **know** him.”

“Well, based on the track-record he’s run -”

“Hang on, HIS track-record?!”

“You admitted it,” Burr hoists the letter, “Philip _lied_ to you.”

“Hate to break it down, Burr, but _Theodosia_ did, too!”

“She was persuaded by Philip!”

“She’s still the one who **did** it.”

“Yes, but-”

Alexander stands.

“They **messed up** , Burr! **Everyone** does. _Just admit it_!”

Alexander stands back, aghast at himself. When did he start yelling?

“Alexander,” Burr notions, “What’s compelling you to act so _wild_?

Hamilton takes a breath.

“Burr, let **_me_ ** be frank... Theodosia makes Philip smile.”

Burr quirks an eyebrow. He sees - no, a _tear_ in Alexander’s eye?

_‘I didn’t know Hamilton was capable of compassion.’_

Alex continues his fit of passion. He thinks of Eliza.

_‘Think about them.’_

“Okay?” Alex states, “I meant _every_ word I wrote about her in that letter. Even _better_ , in fact. Theodosia talks freely. She knows how to make him laugh. And, yeah, maybe it’s selfish of **_me_ ** to speak on their behalf. But I honestly can’t see why we don’t let them be. Isn’t that what every parent wants? For their kids to be _happy_?”

As Burr witnesses his old colleague’s testament, he’s adamant to interrupt. However, Alexander isn’t done. 

“And you’ll be happy to know _Theodosia_ seems as happy with him as _he_ is with her. Can we just leave them out of this mess, Burr?”

Alexander looks Aaron in the eye - both expressions severe. Burr grabs the locket on his chest and thinks of his dear wife. His daughter’s namesake. The love of his life. 

He lets go. Slowly, Burr reaches for Hamilton’s letter. He tears it in half. He bellows a hollow laugh.

“Hamilton,” Burr shuns, “My daughter is not to go anywhere _near_ your son. And because of this little ‘incident’, she’s going under lock-and-key.” 

He goes to the door, “That’s all on the matter from me.”

Alexander jumps to the door, although weak in the knees. He looks his rival in the eye.

“Burr, reconsider. _Please_!”

Aaron is stunned to see Hamilton beg.

Alex slaps a raw palm to his face.

“I mean, c’mon. S-since when does _courting_ make you a social pariah?!”

Burr reaches for the doorknob.

“I don’t know, Alexander. Why don’t _you_ ask Maria?”

Hamilton’s violet eyes grow wide. His fists clench as his right arm strides. 

**_Whack!_ **

Hamilton doesn’t hesitate. He exhibits no restraint. 

He strikes. He punches Burr in the face. 

**_“Agh!”_ **

Burr grabs his eye and recoils at the toil. Hamilton’s blood continues to boil. 

Almost out of breath, Alexander grumbles as he shouts.

“ **Get the Hell out of my** **_house_ ** **, Burr.** ”

Burr bows, “‘Pleasure talking with you on this matter, sir.”

Still clutching his cheek, Burr discreetly goes down the stairs. He quickly grabs his cloak. At the door, William is there.

“Where ya goin’?”

“I-”

“Senator,” Eliza peeks over, “Are you leaving? I’ve just prepared tea.”

Burr shakes his head.

“I-I must go. Our meeting ended rather _unexpectedly_.”

He turns his head. That’s when she sees-

“Mr. Burr, your **eye**! Did Alexander-”

“I-It’s alright. Mrs. Hamilton, goodbye.”

He leaves, curtly closing the door.

Eliza fumes.

**_“Alexander_ **!”

* * *

Quite refreshing, the frigid air soothes Burr’s face. He braces himself: scooping snow from the ground. He slaps the slushy, cool substance just below his brow.

“Ahhh,” sighs the Senator, “That feels better.”

“ _Sir!_ ”

“Huh?”

Burr looks. Could that blow to face be playing tricks on his ears? Yet again, he hears - 

“Sir!”

This time clearer. Just behind his horse, he spots a young man: knees knocking as he stands at command.

“P-pardon me. S-Senator Burr, sir?”

“That depends. Who’s asking?”

“Oh, sure. Sir, I’m Richard Price.”

“Yes, go on?”

“I’m good friends with Philip Hamilton.”

Just the sound of his name makes Burr grimace.

“Listen,” Burr states, “In that case, I’m sure you’re looking for his _father_.”

“No, sir,” Richard insists, “Philip said you’d be here. He sent me for _you_.”

“Young man,” Burr orders, growing tired, “What is it that you need me to do?”

“I-it’s your _daughter_.”

* * *

A very cross Eliza looks her husband in the eyes.

“Alexander,” she insists, her voice tight, “You must **apologize**!”

“Eliza,” Alex states, “I’m sure that Burr is long gone.”

“Check the window yourself. He’s standing right on the lawn!”

“What?”

Alex rushes to the sill. She’s right. Burr’s there. His pallor goes green, he feels ill.

“P-Perhaps,” his voice cracks, “I should give him some time to-”

“ **_Alexander!_ **” 

Alexander huffs with a sigh, “Fine.”

He grabs his navy cloak. William still sits by the front door, playing with some toy.

“Mommy’s mad at you.”

Alex smiles, “I know, boy.”

He scruffs his son’s hair as he walks outside. He’s greeted by whistling winds. 

And a voice?

And another?

There’s someone standing next to Burr.

He hears them say, “I-it’s your _daughter_.”

“Theodosia?” Burr questions desperately, “Is she alright?”

Richards shyly rubs his neck.

“She was skating on the lake and broke through thin ice.”

Alexander rushes from behind Burr.

“Is there a doctor on sight?”

“The doctor just arrived when...”

Alexander lightly grabs Richard’s shoulder.

“When ‘what’, son?”

“Well, _someone_ had to save her, so... Philip jumped in.”

“ **What?** ”

Alexander’s heart stops. He drops to one knee. 

“Where is he?!” he looks over to Burr, “W-where are _they_?”

“The shore of the lake by the library.”

Burr nods affirmatively. He grabs Alexander’s arm.

“C’mon, we’ll take my horse.”

“Burr…”

Alexander’s face glows crimson.

“Thank you.”

Burr nods.

“Of course.”

* * *

A light flurry of snow begins as the horse trots. At Burr’s command, the animal stops when he spots the sight of bodies. While blurry, Alexander recognizes one of the blobs.

“ **Philip!** ” he sobs.

“Yah!” Burr yells, pulling tightly at the reins for the horse to halt. 

The two fathers barely wait for him to stop before they hop off. 

The doctor is tending to Philip’s minor cuts and scrapes.

“These two are very lucky,” he scolds, “If not for the boy’s sake-”

He stands back as the fathers start peeling off their cloaks. They sprint to their children: who are completely soaked, sitting in a snowbank. They’re smiling and shivering. Their fathers’ cloaks feel nice against their blue, numb skin.

Burr’s expression is pained as he hugs his daughter tight.

Alexander rubs his son’s arms.

“Are you two alright?”

Through chattering teeth, Philip replies, “W-we’re f-fine.”

“Good,” Alex’s demeanor shifts, “ **Are you out of your damn** **_mind_ **?!”

“You too, Theodosia,” Burr adds to the fray, “And _I_ thought you had piano lessons today!”

“I-I did, Papa!” Theodosia replies, “I c-c-came t’skate a-after.”

“Theodosia,” Burr looks her in the eye, “Are you lying?”

Her tears turn to ice as they break through her eyes. She nods her head. Burr sighes. 

“And **you,** ” Burr turns to Philip. 

Alexander’s eyebrows cross as Burr approaches his son.

“Young man,” Burr bellows, “Get this through your **head** …”

Burr kneels down in the snow and hugs the teen. Philip gasps.

“Without you, my daughter would be dead.”

Again, Alex is aghast. It’s about two minutes before the hug is through.

It ends as Philip emits a -

“ _Hrr’aa_ **_aschoo_ **!”

Alexander helps his son to stand and feels his forehead. 

“Mhm, serves you right,” Alex nods.

Burr adds, “We should get these two to bed.”

“Doctor,” Alexander calls, “We’re in need of another horse. If you don’t mind-”

“Why, Mr. Hamilton, of course!”

Burr hardly has time to acknowledge Alexander’s pompousness. Though, he finds it a bit strange.

_‘At least it’s warranted, for a change.’_

The children mount each horse. Respectively, of course: Philip is on one, Theodosia on another. Once they’re on, they are accompanied by each father. 

“Burr,” Alexander calls, “It’s a long trip for you.”

“Sir?”

“-And Theodosia needs to get warm, yes?”

“To be sure.”

“For the sake of the situation, you’re both welcome to stay the night.”

Burr ponders and smiles.

“If… you’re sure that’s alright.”

Nodding his head, Alexander looks fervent.

“I have the honor to be your obedient servant.”

Scoffing a bit, Burr calls to his horse: secretly thankful for the now-shorter course. There is a tap on his shoulder.

“What is it, sweetie-pie?”

“P-papa,” Theo’s nose wrinkles, “W-what’s wr-wrong w-with y-your eye?”

Blushing, Burr replies, “We’ll have to talk about that later. About my eye… and about your **behavior**.”

‘ _Rats!’_ Theodosia thinks, _‘Shouldn’t’ve asked.’_

Meanwhile, the other horse carries the Hamiltons. 

“What in God’s name were you thinking, son?!” ...


	4. In Which the Senator is Inebriated

Meanwhile, the other horse carries the Hamiltons. 

“What in God’s name were you _thinking_ , son?!”

“B-but, P-pops-”

“Weren’t you supposed to be at the library, young man? I don’t remember _nearly_ **_drowning_ ** being part of the plan.”

As his father scolds him, Philip moans and groans. The bastard orphan keeps yelling all the way home.

Back at the house, Eliza’s eyes are teary and wide. The band of freezing patriots rush inside. Eliza hugs her child.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she heaves, “Are you two alright?!”

“W-we’re fine Mom.”

Theodosia shivers, “H-hello, M-Mrs. Hamilton.”

Without a word, Eliza thrusts her hands to their foreheads. 

“You’re both burning up!”

“M-mom, I-”

“Not another word. You two - go change into something dry.”

She ushers the teens to the stairs, her lips tight.

“Theodosia, use my room. It’s up the stairs, three doors to the right.”

Eliza calls to her eldest daughter.

“Angelica,” she orders without time to spend, “Draw some hot water for your brother and his... friend.”

Her daughter nods earnestly. She hurries off to the kitchen. In the chaos, Alexander still smiles.

“Best of wives and best of women”

She dolts to her husband and tightly embraces him.

“Alexander! And Mr. Burr, sir. You must be frozen.”

Alex subtly stirs.

“Nothing compared to how the children were.”

Burr chimes in, “Mrs. Hamilton, please - there’s no need to fuss.”

“Oh, hush,” she replies, “Now, just set yourselves down by the fire.”

Sitting by the pyre, with a wafer in hand, is little William Hamilton. He grins.

“Hi, Dad!”

Alexander scoops the imp in his arms: thankful that _one_ of his children is safe from harm.

“Hi, sport,” Alex chuckles quickly, “Wait…”

He looks at his grandfather clock. It reads half-past eight.

Alexander frowns, “Why are the children awake?”

Eliza states, “They were worried for Philip’s sake…”

She looks to Burr.

“And Theodosia, too.”

Visibly confused, Burr questions, “How did you-”

“Richard Price informed me.”

Alex nods.

“Nice boy.”

_“H’raaa’schooo!”_

The group turns around to find who emitted the sound. Of course, it was Philip: looking pitiful as could be. His nose is flushed, his pallor is pale, and he’s shaky in the knees.

“Young man,” Alexander chides, “Cover that sneeze!”

“Alexander, please,” Eliza seethes, rushing to her son. She ushers him over through the parlor.

“Philip,” she says, “In the kitchen, Angelica’s prepared two tubs of hot water. You and Theodosia go and warm yourselves.”

Philip slowly nods his head and sloths over, with Theodosia in tow, to the kitchen. Burr stands from the couch with rigor.

“Not without some supervision.”

Silence fills the room. Philip is shaking even more. Alexander’s brow furrows. He ushers Burr to sit back down.

“I’ll go.”

“Alexander?”

“Eliza, let me,” Alex remarks, “ I’ll watch them and prepare Mr. Burr some brandy.”

“Uh, I don’t drink.”

Alexander rubs the bridge of his nose. He’s already exacerbated. Reflecting this, his tone is more exaggerated.

“Fine,” he huffs, “Then I’ll go prepare Mr. Burr’s _tea_.”

He places one hand on Theodosia’s shoulder, the other on Philip. He sneaks a wink to his son. The trio staggers to the kitchen. He sits the two of them down as Angelica pours scalding water into the tubs.

That’s when an idea strikes!

“Angelica,” Alex cooes, “Would you mind filling a teapot for me, love?”

“Not at all, father,” she replies, taking the steel black kettle to a violet teapot for a brew.

“As for you two,” Alex states, and throws wool blankets over their shoulders, “I’ll be back in a minute. You just try to keep warm.”

Alexander motions for the counter to grab the teapot. He quickly turns on his heels.

“And **no** funny business, Philip, you hear?”

“L-loud ad’ clear,” Philip replies, his voice congested.

Collectedly, Alexander takes a cup and the pot of tea. As he walks out of the kitchen, he briefly stops and grabs a small, copper vial from his liquor cabinet. He doesn’t miss a drop as the substance plops into the pot. The man stifles a laugh and tries to gain some composure as he makes his way over.

_‘This ought to take the chill off his bones…’_

Alex sets down the cup first. He looks Burr in the eye and shoots him a smile. It’s a little too wide for Burr’s comfort. Delicately, his host pours the tea.

“Nice and steamy,” he hums, “Prepared by your truly.”

Burr nods anxiously. He takes a sip of the tea. His lips go sour as he wretches.

“Mercy!” he cries, “Alexander, this is quite the odd brand of tea.”

“It’s _Assam._ ”

Burr quirks his brow.

“Excuse me?”

“Assam,” Alex repeats, “Much higher pungency.”

Burr sips it again. It goes down smoother. 

“I see,” he remarks, seemingly pleased, “Once you get used to the flavor, it’s quite the delight.”

Alex grins.

“Mr. Burr, have as much as you’d like.”

Before he knows it, Burr’s teacup is empty. To replenish, he reaches for the teapot’s handle. Then, he stops and looks up.

“Hang on… Alexander?”

Sweat lightly drips from Alexander’s brow.

“Sir?”

_‘The jig is up! He knows.’_

Burr nods his head to the kitchen.

“The children… Who’s watching them?”

Alexander desperately wants to heave a sigh of relief. He keeps his celebration discreet. 

_‘Sweet.’_

Alexander notions to the door.

“Now that they’ve warmed up, I’ll send them to bed.”

Burr flails.

“ **Alexander-** ”

“ _Separately,_ Burr.”

Aaron blushes.

“Naturally.”

Alexander bows slightly as he enters the kitchen. Clutching their blankets, Philip and Theo shoot up. The two teens stand, releasing their hands. Their faces are stark red.

Alexander shakes his head. He gestures to the hallway. Theo moves past him. Then, he stops Philip and snarls.

“What did I **_say_ **?

As his son attempts to answer, he shrugs the boy off. Alexander leads them up the stairs. Scratch that - he goes _last_. At their hands, he fiercely stares.

_‘Not on my watch,’_ he glares.

Once they reach the top, Alexander stops the two. His expression hardens.

“Okay... Here’s what we’re gonna do. Theodosia, you’ll stay in Mrs. Hamilton’s room.”

He shoots his son a stern look.

“As for _you_ , you’ll sleep in yours.”

His eyes squint as he raises his voice.

“And let me be _clear_ . **_Neither_ ** of you are to open your doors, at _any_ or _all_ costs.”

Theodosia nods.

“Yes, sir.”

Philip follows suit.

“‘Kay, Pops.”

_‘Poor things,’_ Alex thinks, _‘They look like they’re about to drop.’_

Alexander holds open Theodosia’s door.

“Now, go on. Get some rest.”

He turns to the stairs. When he hears-

“Hey, Pops?”

“Son?”

Philip hugs his father’s torso.

“You’re the best.”

As he lets go, Alexander’s heart burns in his chest. He notices, on his cheek, a tear slid.

“God, I love that kid.”

__

Down the steps, he flies. He sees his wife waiting for him at the bottom. There’s a concerned look on her face.

“Alexander, how are they?”

“No need to fret,” he says, “All tucked in.”

She grins. He takes her hand. That’s when they hear a band of whooping and screeching coming from the parlor. Alex smirks.

“What’s going on in there?”

“ **_The British are coming!_ **” someone hollars.

Alexander deducts the voice’s owner: someone very familiar.

Eliza sighes, “The children and _Mr. Burr_ are playing Paul Revere.”

“Oh, I’ve **gotta** see this.”

Alexander scrambles over to the common room. The sight he beholds is truly remarkable. The dignified, poised Senator Burr… is down on his hands and knees, whinnying like a horse.

“ **_Eliza_ ** !” Alex chortles, “Did you know Paul owned a _steer_?!”

Eliza walks over to Alexander: his expression beaming like a light.

“Doesn’t Mr. Burr seem a bit off tonight?”

“Honestly? To me, Burr’s off all the time.”

“Just _look_ at him, Alexander. He’s acting like a _child_.”

“He’s actually acting like a _human_ , for once. I’m sure he’s fine.”

Resigned, Eliza chimes, “Could _he_ be sick, too? Do you think he has a fever?”

Through snickers, Alex says, “I wouldn’t worry, dear.” 

“I’m not certain,” Eliza ponders, “Maybe it’s something he ate? Something he drank? Something he-”

That’s when Alexander snorts.

Eliza frowns.

“Of _course_.”

She grabs her husband by the scruff.

“What did you do to get him out of sorts?”

“Eliza-”

“ **Admit** it, Alexander. _What_ did you put in his tea?”

“Oh... just a splash of brandy.”

“What?!” she cries, shocked, “Oh Alexander, tell me you **_didn’t_ **.”

“If it helps,” Alex shrugs, “I also added just a _hint_ of lemon.”

“It **doesn’t** ,” Eliza snaps, “I-I thought he doesn’t _drink_!”

“That’s what _he_ thinks.”

“ **Alexander!** You find this _funny_?!”

Alex shrugs.

“Kinda, honey.”

“He’s **drunk.** ”

“As a skunk!”

Eliza shakes her head.

“How unbecoming. You’ve poisoned our guest.”

“Relax!” Alex insists, “He’ll be back to normal after some rest.”

“Alexander, that’s **enough**.”

“What?”

“Go **sober** him up.”

“Why? He seems so _liberated_.”

“Because he’s **_inebriated_ **!”

“Personally, I think he’s _far_ more useful this way.”

“In **what** way?!”

They turn their heads as they both hear a “Neigh!”

“Well, for starters,” Alex says, “He’s William’s personal horse.”

William cries, “Can we go again, Mr. Burr?!”

“ **Of course**!” Burr whinnies.

Eliza's palm meets her face.

“Just tell me. **Why** did you do it?”

“The man is _uptight_. I couldn’t have him on my case all night.”

“Oh!” she cries sarcastically, “So you’d rather him just go **crazy**?”

Alex scratches his chin. He looks down.

“...Maybe.”

“ **Sober him up** ,” his wife repeats, her face glowing red, “ _I’m_ putting the children to bed.”

She storms away, but stops to look at her husband.

“And Alexander? _Don’t you ever do this_ **_again_ **.”

Frozen in place, Alexander reads his wife’s face. He blushes in disgrace and rushes to the living space.

Eliza calls, “Children! Say goodnight to Mr. Burr.”

John whines, “Aw, Mom!”

“Dad,” William adds, “Do we gotta?”

“You heard your mother.”

Williams sighs and hops off Burr’s back. 

In a chorus, the Hamilton children say, “Good night, Mr. Burr!”

Burr, still on all fours, echoes, “ **G’** **_night_ ** **, Mr. Burr**!”

The children continue to laugh, Burr still mimicking a horse.

“Alexander,” Eliza nods, “He’s all yours.”

“But-”

Without looking back, Eliza leads the children to their rooms single file. Alexander turns back to Burr… who’s sporting an eerie smile.

Alex breathes deeply for a time.

_‘This may take a while.’_

Alex looks him in the eye and commands, “Alright, Burr-”

“Alexander!” Burr cries, his tone laced with glee, “I gotta tell ya, you were right about that tea!”

Burr flips on his back, mimicking a possum.

“No wonder they call it ‘ _Asssssssam_!’”

“Yes, I see,” Alex replies curtly, “What do you say you and I hit the hay?”

“Nnnno way!”

Burr swats Alexander’s outstretched hand away. 

“Burr, c’mon,” Alex insists, “It’s been a long day. I... Burr... What are you doing?”

The Senator is still down on all fours. His eyebrows raise: egging Hamilton to join his throng. He points to his back.

“Hop on.”

“ **Nope**.”

“Aww, whhhhyyyy?” Burr whines “What are you, _scared_?”

“ **Terrified** . My God, I’ve created a **monster**.”

“We could play _monsters_!”

“Burr-”

The drunken Senator proceeds to-

“ **_RRRROAR_ **!”

“Would you cut that out?!”

Louder, Burr goes, “ _GRRRR_ **_RAAAAAH_ ** _-_ ”

“ **_Enough_ **!” 

Burr stumbles as he rises.

“Well, th’re’s no need t’ _shout_.”

All the time, Burr sways. His words slur. Alexander grabs his shoulders.

“Let’s go, Burr.”

“Whhheeere’re we goin’?”

“We are going to bed.”

Burr fights to go up the steps.

“Whhhhaaaat? But I’m not _tired_ yet.”

He allows his full weight to fall on Alexander. He catches the drunk man on the stairs’ decline.

“God! Does drinking revert you to sniveling swine?”

“Pssshh, I don’t drink! And I _know_ you are, but what am **I**?”

“ **Ugh.** ”

Alexander continues to trudge: using all his strength to make Burr budge as they make their way up the stairs.

Alex huffs, “Almost there.”

They reach the peak. Alexander can barely speak, he’s so out of breath. 

“O...kay, Burr...Y...Your room’s on the left.”

Meanwhile, Burr is staring at the door right in front of him.

“I go in there?”

“No, **you’re** in the guest room. Philip’s in there.”

“Yyyyour son?”

“Yes.”

“That boy is the _best_.”

Alexander’s eyebrows raise. He gazes for a moment and refocuses.

_‘He’s drunk… He doesn’t know what he’s saying.’_

Gently, he guides the drunk rival to his room. After a bit of wrestling, he ushers Burr into bed. He refuses to battle with forcing a nightgown on Burr’s head.

“I give up!” Alex grumbles.

He tumbles over Burr, who’s sprawled across the bed. The inebriated man attempts to turn his sheet into a cape. Alexander rips it from his grip and pulls the comforter up to his neck. He proceeds to tuck him tightly.

“Alright,” Alex breathes, cheeks rosy, “Feeling cozy?”

Burr nods, then whines, “Ccccan I have a glass of water?”

“Why didn’t you ask **before**?!”

Burr cringes, his face hot.

“I didn’t wanna be a bother.”

“ _I swear to God_ \- **Wait here**.”

Alex’s temper worsens. He curses all the way down the steps. Vexedly, he pours the water when he reaches the kitchen. His eye twitches. 

“This _bitch_ …”

Back up the steps, he stomps. He slams the glass on the nightstand.

“ **Here**.”

Alexander turns his back - practically sprinting to the door. That’s when he hears sniffles. He turns around. Burr starts bawling.

Alexander screams, “What’s wrong **now**?!”

“Y-you’re so **_kiiiind_ **!” Burr cries.

Alexander can’t believe this. The man is openly sobbing into his pillow. He rubs his temples. He’s visibly in pain.

“Okay,” he hums, depraved, “I’m going to bed. And **you** should, too.”

Burr waves, “G’night, Alexander... I love you!”

Alexander cringes, shoulders rising.

“Oh my **God**.”

“Say it _baaack_!” Burr sings, “C’mon, it’s alright!”

Alex is fuming.

_‘...You will not kill this man. Not tonight.’_

Burr sings, “ _Alexandereeerrr!_ ”

“ **Fine** !” Alex shouts, mumbling, “ _Iloveyoutoo_.”

“Can’t hear yooouuu-”

“ **I LOVE YOU, TOO.** **_GOD._ ** **GO TO** **_SLEEP_ ** **.** ”

The door slams so hard, the walls shake. Burr cringes a bit. He sits upright in bed. He tilts his head.

“I’m lonely,” he says.

Stumbling, he tumbles out of bed. Creepily, he sneaks out and peels through the door. He hears light snores coming from the first floor. He peaks down the steps to find, on the couch, Alexander completely passed out.

“Aww, I can’t wake him,” Burr grins.

He jolts around at the sound of Philip coughing. Burr starts gawking at the doorknob and turns it...


	5. In Which Philip Tells the Truth

He rolls over and over again in his sheets. For the life of him, Philip can’t seem to get to sleep. Sweaty with fever. Worried for Theodosia. He grabs his handkerchief from the nightstand to blow his nose. 

“Ugh.”

He starts to cough. What a miserable situation. Philip’s cheeks burn with exasperation. 

He congestedly breathes out, “For the love of God.”

He pauses and squints at the doorknob.

Were his eyes playing tricks? It made sense, what with the fever brewing. 

_‘Nope,’_ Philip deduces, _‘Definitely moving...’_

Unsteadily, it jiggles. The door creaks open. Inside, Burr wiggles.

Philip’s eyes go wide.

_‘Oh, shit. This is it… This is how I die.”_

He watches the usually uptight Senator shuffle inside. Philip quirks his brow. Something’s not right...

Slowly, the father of his paramore is stumbling through the door. In the dark, Philip can just barely make out a mark above Burr’s left eye. Could it be a stye? No, it’s far too swollen. And. possibly, _purple_? It looks like it hurts. Though, Burr hardly seems bothered. To Philip’s bed, he staggers. The teen can’t believe the sound he hears...

Burr is… giggling? Yes, apparently, he’s capable of making that noise. Burr whispers in a hushed voice.

“ _Pssst_! Philiiiip!”

“M-Mr. Burr, sir?”

“Are you _asleep_? ‘Didn’t mean to cause a stir.”

“Sir,” Philip rises steadily from bed, arms outstretched, “Y-you look kinda shaky. Are you alright?”

“I’m- **_Woah_ **!”

Burr trips. Philip gasps.

“Mr. Burr!”

“I’m _fine_!”

* * *

From a sound sleep, Alexander wakes with a start. His heartbeats slightly pulse more rapidly. 

_‘What could that be?’_

He hears the sound of something pounding on the second floor. He hops up the stairs to check. He believes it’s coming from Philip’s door. His brow furrows.

“What the…”

The door is slightly ajar. He hears incoherent slurs. Subtly, he peeks in to find Burr. 

“Are you _kidding_ me?!”

Alexander preps, ready to storm right in. That’s when he hears Philip’s voice...

* * *

Raspy and thin, the young man ushers Burr to his feet and says, “Sir, I think we should get you back to bed.”

“Jus’ a moment,” Burr waggles his finger, then points to Philip’s head, “I was hoping _we_ could chat instead.”

* * *

Barely, he peaks through the crack. He can’t quite read lips, but Alexander knows something is up. He squints.

“What’s goin’ on in there, son?”

* * *

Philips stares, stunned.

“You... would like to talk with _me_?”

“If that’s alright.”

“Please, sir, I-I don’t think you’re in any condition-”

“Look, I know I’ve got you in a tight position. But it would mean _a lot_ if you could humor me.”

Philip contemplates. He looks Burr in the face. Clearly in disarray, Burr’s unfocused eyes don’t break away. The teen fidgets a bit, rubbing his hands. He plants himself down on the bed. 

“Sure, sir,” he says.

Burr grins. On the bed, he rolls on his belly. Liquor is on his breath as he speaks, kicking his feet.

“Tell me, son. How did you and _Theodosia_ meet?”

* * *

Alexander’s heart stops. His violet eyes go wide. He heard _that_.

_‘This is it. This is how my son dies.’_

He rustles with his thoughts.

_‘Do I stay? Do I go in?’_

He brushes the door knob with his fingertips. He pulls away, takes a breath.

“He’s a _man_. He can handle it.”

* * *

Philip can’t handle this.

Sweat brims his forehead. His reddened cheeks flash. He wants to disappear off the face of the Earth… and fast. Again, he shuffles in his seat.

“Uh, sir,” his voice cracks, “I don’t think-”

The poor boy is on the brink of a nervous breakdown. He shivers. His eyes are slightly wet.

“C’mon,” Burr drunkenly reassures, “I won’t get upset.”

* * *

Alexander puts his ear to the crack. 

He hasn’t heard this story yet.

* * *

Philip looks at the ground. Twiddling his thumbs. 

_‘Am I really doing this?’_

His mind goes numb. 

_‘Dix, Neuf, Huit…’_

In his head, he counts from ten to one. 

Once he’s done, he turns his body parallel to Mr. Burr.

“Well... If you insist, sir.”

“I **dooo**!” he presses, waving to Philip, “Go on.”

_‘This is it…’_

“Here’s the story of how I met Ms. Theodosia.”

* * *

_Gold, brown and reddish leaves dance from the trees. The breeze flows freely, and it’s slightly crisp. Clearly, autumn’s in the air. The wind rushes through Philip’s curly hair._

_In the square, he’s walking: casually talking with Richard Price. He stops suddenly. His friend calls his name thrice._

_“Philip?”_

_He sees her by the brook._

_“Philip?”_

_Her eyes glued to a book._

_“Philip!”_

_“Huh?”_

_The freckled teen looks back. Richard’s muffling a laugh._

_“I see what’s caught your attention,” Price slyly mentions._

_Philip blushes and pouts._

_“Whatcha talkin’ about?”_

_Not so subtly, Price points over to the fair girl. Like Philip’s hair, hers has a tight curl to it. There’s a slight curve to her figure. With her face, delicate features. Philip’s clearly enraptured with the creature._

_Richard sneers._

_“Just go talk to her, bro!”_

_Philip rubs his neck._

_“Won’t that be weird, though?” he stammers, “I-I mean… She’s reading her book.”_

_Richard scoffs, “Who needs books with_ **_those_ ** _looks?”_

_“Price,_ **_gross_ ** _.”_

_“Let’s_ **_go_ ** _, Hamilton,” he chides, “You’re burning daylight. Would you rather just talk to her or stare?”_

_“...Stare.”_

_“What is_ **_wrong_ ** _with you?! C’mon,_ **_you’re_ ** _not shy!”_

_“I’m also not a creep. Let’s let her be. She’s minding her own business.”_

_“_ **_YAaaAh_ ** _!” Richard screeches._

_Theodosia looks up._

_“Now she isn’t.”_

_Philip is fuming, clenching Richard’s collar._

_He hollars, “_ **_Price_ ** _! I swear to-”_

_“-Looks like someone has her eyes on you.”_

_Coyly, Theodosia glances over the binding of her massive text. Philip stares back, perplexed. He squints at the cover, laced in finishings of satin. There, he sees the words ‘LATIN’._

_Gulping, Philip turns back to his friend. Richard’s smiling wildly. Philip solemnly shakes his head._

_He whispers, “When I’m through with this, you’re_ **_dead_ ** _.”_

_It’s like he’s walking in slow-motion, notioning over to the maiden. His chest laden, heavily raising and falling laboredly._

_‘Why am I nervous?’_

_Philip has done this before. So, why was she so special?_

_He approaches her. She looks up. Their eyes are level._

_A few seconds go by, Philip doesn’t bat an eye._

_The woman smiles, “Sir, are you okay?”_

_Philip blurts out, “Quid agis hodie, iuvenes domina?”_

_Theodosia’s eyes sparkle, “Latin! How’d you know I speak it?”_

_Philip gestures, “Your book kinda gave away the secret.”_

_“Ah,” she nods, “And ‘monsieur, parlez vous Francais'?”_

_“Oui,” he replies, keeping the conversation’s pace, “You got a name as pretty as your face?”_

_He gestures to take her hand from the page. She allows it._

_‘Hmm, about the right age,’ she thinks, studying his features._

_Tan and freckled cheeks. Eyes as bright as day. And a smile that could knock you out and blow you away._

_She gently sways._

_“Covers can be deceitful. You’ll have to be the judge of that, sir.”_

_She offers her hand and says, “Theodosia Burr.”_

_“_ **_Nope_ ** _.”_

_He drops her hand like a hot croissant. Theodosia’s brow creases._

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“L-look, I’m sorry,” Philip stutters, “I-it’s not you.”_

_“Just my_ **_name_ ** _?”_

_“W-Well, if you knew_ **_mine_ ** _, I think you’d do the same.”_

_“Try me,” the woman replies, staunchly crossing her arms._

_He states, “I’m Philip_ **_Hamilton_ ** _.”_

_She backs away at the mention of his name._

_“Ohhh.”_

_There, her father’s rival’s son stares her dead in the face._

_“Yeah. Look, Ms. Burr, I’m sorry I bothered you... I’ll be on my way.”_

_Down the cobblestone path, Philip trots alone - Richard’s long gone. He combs his fingers through his curly._

_“Damn, what a shame.”_

_He looks aloft, to the left. And who does he find?_

_“...Ms. Burr?”_

_“...Hi.”_

_Philip shrugs, “Well, this is awkward.”_

_“I guess you’re also headed to-”_

_“-The festival in town?”_

_He looks her up and down._

_“Without an escort?”_

_“He’s not around,” she states, “I won’t see him until sundown.”_

_Philip grins._

_“Is that so?”_

_“He thinks I’m at lessons for piano.”_

_What is this? An opportunity glints in Theodosia's eyes. She smiles, beguiling. Philip feels his temperature rising, guiding his path a bit closer to hers._

_“Lessons at what spot?”_

_“Down three blocks.”_

_“So, we’ve got to get you back there before dark?”_

_He stretches out his arm. She grins._

_“Well, really, what’s the harm?”_

_Through the square, they stroll to the park. It’s full of life and conversation! All the time, Philip and Theodosia hide from notable figures’ eyes. The last thing they need is for their fathers to learn of this. The day goes off without a hitch. Their time together is nice._

_That’s when Philip catches the glance from Richard Price._

_“Philip,” Richard sings, overly fondly, “Who might this be?”_

_“_ **_Price_ ** _,” Philip growls, “Can we speak privately?”_

_He turns back to the young woman._

_“Ms. Burr, excuse me.”_

_At the name, Richard is shocked._

_“What!?”_

_Philip grabs Richard’s ear and pulls him tightly to the side._

_“Listen here,” Philip’s tone severe, “Get lost, and **fast**.” _

_“But-”_

_“Before I kick your ass.”_

_“Fine,” Richard replies, smiling, “But I don’t think the ass you want is **mine**.” _

_“_ **_GO!_ ** _”_

_Philip shoves him away, Richard cackling as he leaves. Philip relocates Theodosia in the throng._

_“Sorry I took so long.”_

_She waves him off, “You gave me some time for peace!”_

_“‘Peace?’”_

_“You really_ **_are_ ** _your father’s son. My God, you could talk for_ **_weeks_ ** _.”_

_Philip smirks, “Please. My Pops could talk circles around me.”_

_“Maybe,” Theodosia nods, “But one things’ true.”_

_“What’s that?”_

_“The rumor of your resemblance… Except, you’re a_ **_little_ ** _more cute.”_

_Philip can feel his cheeks blazing, gazing at Burr’s daughter._

_“Yeah?” Philip quips, “Well, you’re_ **_way_ ** _hotter than your father.”_

_The lady breaks down in laughter. Philip chortles so hard, he cries. They both look up. Theodosia frowns at the purple skies. They’re just a block from her location - the pathway lit by the moon._

_She shrugs, “My escort will be here soon.”_

_Philip clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck._

_“‘Guess I’ll be on my way.”_

_He turns on his heels. She calls his name._

_“Philip?”_

_His cheeks burn._

_“Y-you can call me Pip.”_

_“Okay. Well, ‘Pip’... Thanks for a great day.”_

_He nods his head._

_“I should be thanking you,” he replies earnestly._

_He starts again. Then, stops. He can’t seem to walk away._

_He takes a deep breath._

_‘Philip, **say** something…’ _

_“W **ai** t,” his voice cracks, “I’ve got a question…” _

_“Okay?”_

_“Maybe we could get together again, and I dunno… Talk some Latin?”_

_“...Latin?”_

_‘Latin? Are **serious** , Philip? C’mon, you can do better.’ _

_“L-Latin’s kinda stupid, u-unless you wanna-”_

_“Sure!”_

_“Okay, let’s do it!”_

_“Great!”_

_Grinning like fools, they hesitate. Philip shakes his head._

_“I… guess the only question’s when?”_

_“Well,” she shrugs, “When do you wanna meet again?”_

_“Maybe next Saturday?”_

_“That’s perfect!”_

_“Ah, but don’t you have piano lessons?”_

_“I’ve got a confession…. I’m terrible, to be honest. I only keep at it because I promised my mother.”_

_She looks down to the ground. Angrily, she swipes a tear from her eye. Philip thrusts his hands in his pockets and sighes._

_“I... used to play, too” he chuckles, “‘Sucked, though.”_

_“‘Do, Re, Mi’? I couldn’t even pass ‘Do’!”_

_“Well,” Philip replies, “I ‘Do’ not want to force you.”_

_Laughing, she adds, “You're not forcing someone if the person_ **_wants_ ** _to.”_

_She extends her hand. Philips kisses it lightly._

_“Ms. Burr-”_

_“Sir?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Call me Theo. Please.”_

_Her hazel eyes are ornery. Philip is lost in them, feeling-_

_“Well, okay,” he giggles, releasing her hand, “Theo... I’ll see_ **_you_ ** _next Saturday.”_

* * *

Once Philip is done, he is drenched in sweat. And the perspiration isn’t from the fever, either. His eyes are shut, shoulders tight. He’s bracing for the blow. That’s when he hears wimpers from below.

He looks down by his bed frame to find Mr. Burr. The man is sniveling and wiping his eyes with his shirt. 

_‘Oh my God,’_ Philip thinks, _‘I’m not gonna die!’_

“Mr. Burr,” he asks quietly, “Are you alright?”

“F-fine,” Burr wails, “J-Just somethin’ in my eye.”

“That’s not it,” Philip insists, “Mr. Burr, you’re crying.”

Burr glances up from the ground. His teary eyes squeeze.

“It’s just... _so_ **_sweeeet_ **!”

Collecting himself, he reaches into his pocket. He then proceeds to drench his handkerchief in snot.

“You must really like her a lot!”

Wistfully, Philip sighs.

“Sir, I can’t lie... Allow me to say this. As soon as I met her, she blew me _away_.”

Philip folds his hands. He swings his legs over the side of the bed. 

“I... I’m _sorry_ , Mr. Burr,” Philip says, “For not talking to you sooner. For lying about the whole thing. For not seeking your approval. It wasn’t right, and by **God** , I swear to Theodosia and _you_ . I’ll do _whatever_ it takes to make her feel special and true and-”

Philip pauses at the sound of snores. He looks over. Mr. Burr is asleep on the floor.

* * *

Alexander, too, hears Burr’s hums of slumber. He wipes his own teary eye and turns the doorknob. Lightly, he walks into Philip’s room. His son shoots him a look, practically gawks.

“Pops?!”

His father smiles at him and gestures down to the ground.

“Quick, help me get him in bed. You’ll take the guest room, instead.”

“O...kay?”

“Trust me,” Alex huffs, “It’s _far_ easier this way.”

The Hamiltons lift Burr: Alex takes his left arm, Philip grabs the right.

“So,” the boy pipes, “Is Mr. Burr alright?”

“Philip-”

“He seemed drunk-”

“ **Philip** ,” he scolds with warning, “It's late. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

They thrust Burr into bed, throwing the sheet over his head. Steadily, they make for the hallway. Alexander closes the door, using one hand. With the other, he checks his son’s forehead.

_‘Still a fever…’_

He asks his son, “How do you feel?”

Philip smiles.

“A lot better.”

As he hops into bed, Philip’s expression is painted with fear.

“Pops… How much of that story did you hear?”

“All of it,” his father says curtly, “And let me make something clear.”

“Yes?”

‘ _Uh oh. Not out of the woods yet.’_

“When I asked you when you met, you said you couldn’t remember?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You met at the festival, yes? That was back in September.”

With a look of surprise, Philip replies, “Oh!”

“So, it’s been _three_ months,” the bastard orphan says.

He smiles as he tucks his son into bed. Philip yawns, his eyes are heavy with exhaustion.

“Pops,” he hums, “Do you think Mr. Burr will be mad?”

“Well, I’d be cautious.”

At his father’s frank reply, Philip breathes out a sigh. As Alexander goes and closes Philip’s curtain, he chuckles to himself.

“Well, at least _one_ thing is certain.”

“What’s that?”

Philip looks up as his father scoffs.

“Those Latin lessons sure paid off.”

“Pops!”

His son’s eyes flash. 

“Get some rest,” Alex demands, “It’s quarter-to-one!”

Philip snuggles beneath the blanket.

“‘Night, Pops.”

Alex grins. 

“Goodnight, son.”


	6. In Which Neutrality Begins

When Alexander hears the grandfather clock strike eight, he is stunned. He usually never sleeps this late.

“Ugh…” he moans, peeling open his sand-encrusted eyes.

“Guh,” Alex rasps, “What a night.”

He is slow to wake. Though his shoulders ache, he pushes himself upward on the couch. No doubt, Alexander feels like death warmed over. He slings his stiff legs over and sighs. There is a dull pounding in his head, a crick in his side. He rises and shuffles over to the steps. They are daunting. He stares them down and takes a breath.

_‘You can do this…’_

Each step he takes is an exacerbation. From lack of sleep, Alexander feels the limitation of his stamina. Once he reaches the peak, the floorboard creaks. While the sound of the creaking is, really, quite low, some distant voice bellows-

“ _Oooh…_ ”

Alexander perks his ear up as he hears the low groan. Behind Philip’s door, someone stirs. Alex grins. 

“Ah,” he chuckles, “Mr. Burr.”

* * *

His cranium is throbbing. He hasn’t even opened up his eyes. Aaron Burr is trapped in his hungover demise. He thrusts his pillow tightly over his ears. He hears his door squeak open, footsteps to follow. 

“Who’s’re,” he mumbles, his tone somewhat hollow.

In the cheeriest voice Alex could ever muster, he cheers, “ **Good moooorning** , Mr. Burr, **sir**!”

Beneath the covers, Alex can tell Burr is wincing.

“Alexander… Could you lower your voice, please?”

“Sure!”

He doesn’t lower his voice: not by a peep.

He slithers over to Burr’s bed and cooes, “How’d you sleep?”

Burr lifts the pillow from his face. 

“Rather **fitfully**.”

“Oh?”

“Hamilton,” he groans, “What did you _do_ to me?”

Alexander shrugs.

“I suppose you didn’t take well to the tea.”

Alexander frowns as Burr turns green.

“Burr?”

“Oh, I think I’m gonna be-”

“Woah, **easy**!” Alex gestures, panicking slightly “Just rest a bit. I can get you anything you need.”

“Perhaps, a bucket?”

“Yes…”

Alexander sneers. He can’t resist.

“And maybe another cup of tea.”

“ **_Ohhhh_ **...”

Burr lurches in bed, clutching his stomach to hurl.

“Hold it, pal,” Alex insists, placing the bucket by the bedside.

“Th-thanks…”

Alex bows, “Your wish is my command.”

He turns on his heels to leave.

“Anything else you need? Crackers, perhaps? Glass of water?”

“No, I’m - Wait... Hamilton, **where** is my daughter?”

“Not to worry,” Alex replies, “I’ll check if she’s up for breakfast.”

Burr pales at the mention of food.

“oooOO **Ooohh** …”

“...You rest.”

Alex tiptoes out, leaving Burr to his misery. He hears Burr’s whale-like howls and scoffs.

“Big baby.”

Just a few doors down, through the third on the right, Alexander quietly lets in the natural sunlight. He’s quiet to enter. Theodosia gently stirs. Alex grins.

“Knock knock” he says softly, “Good morning, Ms. Burr.”

“S-sir?”

Theodosia rubs her eyes, steadily evading her slumber. She slightly trembles. Her paramore’s father sits at the bedside before her. He gently feels her forehead.

He hums, “Not as warm. That’s good. How are you feeling?”

Theo nods, “M-Much better.”

“Good,” Alexander nods, “I smell Mrs. Hamilton preparing breakfast.”

Theodosia’s eyebrow quirks. Alex continues.

“If you’re feeling up to it, of course. Would you care to join us?”

She rubs her arm.

“I-I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I insist.”

Theodosia’s spine stiffens.

“Oh. Well, thank you, Mr. Hamilton. You’re a gracious host.”

“Of all the guests we’ve had, you’re the one I’ve enjoyed most.”

Taken aback by his words, Theodosia smiles widely. This fades quickly.

“Mr. Hamilton, I owe you an apology.”

“No,” Alex waves, “Ms. Burr, I believe you’re owed one from _me_.”

Her eyes squint.

“Pardon me?”

“When you joined us for supper last, you were nothing but kind. And I behaved like an _ass_. I treated you quite poorly, and resigned you to treatment most unbecoming of a young lady.”

He extends his hand.

“I truly hope you can forgive me.”

She stares at the man. She feels achy inside.

“But, sir,” Theo replies, “Philip and I _lied_.”

Alexander can sense her pride. He nods.

“I know... Philip told me the story from three months ago.”

“Oh, **no.** "

“Oh yes,” Alex laughs, “He also told your _father_.”

“What?!” Theodosia exclaims surprised, “Mr. Hamilton… Is Philip _alive_?”

“Philip’s quite fine,” Alex assures, “Ms. Burr, back to you. I said many things I regret. But one claim is true... Philip is quite taken with you.”

Theodosia beams. Looking down, Alexander’s hand is still outstretched. She takes it.

“Mr. Hamilton, I care _so much_ for him, too.”

“I can tell,” he grins, “Seeing your child happy? Who could want more, as a father?”

“-Mr. Hamilton, I need to speak **privately** with my daughter.”

“Papa?”

Theodosia and Alexander turn. In the doorway, they see a hunched-over Burr. Though his pallor is sickly, his expression is stern. Theo is visibly shaken. Alexander remains firm. He coolly stands up from the bed. 

“Of course,” Alexander says, “I’ll be down in the kitchen, Mr. and Ms. Burr.”

“Sure.”

Alexander floats over to the door. He can see sweat seeping from Burr’s pores. The man looks terrible. 

Alexander is delighted.

_‘Should I do it? ... Yeah, I should.’_

“Mr. Burr,” he whispers “If you’d like, I can save you some food-”

“ **Hamilton.** Please, I’m _not_ in the mood.”

Alexander shrugs. 

“Suit yourself!”

_‘God, that felt good!’_

Amusedly, Alexander leaves the two alone. Theodosia squirms. Her father’s face is hard as stone. Hand clutching his stomach, Burr trudges to the bedside. He slowly hunches down to sit, tears in his eyes. Theodosia’s never seen her father look _this_ bad. 

“Papa,” she swallows hard, “Are you mad?”

Burr expels a hot breath.

“Theodosia? You broke nearly _every_ promise we had.”

She bows her head as her father lists her misdeeds.

“Going to your lessons? Not leaving the side of your escort? You promised to do this... I promised your _mother_ . I’d always keep you safe. I’d never let you go astray. Until that **Hamilton** boy went and blew you away.”

Tears in her own eyes, Theo replies, “I should’ve told you. It was my fault that this happened.”

“Theodosia, tell me **_right_ ** _now_ …”

His brow softens.

“Does he make you happy?”

Theo jolts her head up. Her father is averting his stare. It’s almost like he’s unprepared for the answer she'll share. Bracing herself, Theodosia puffs out her chest.

“ _Yes._ ” 

Burr grimaces. On her father’s shoulder, she places her hand.

“Papa… He really is a gentleman.”

“I doubt that,” Burr quips, “After all, he _is_ a Hamilton.”

A small smile creeps on Burr’s mouth. 

Theodosia embraces him tightly and shouts, “Papa! I love you so.”

“Theodosia,” Burr gravels, a lump in his throat, “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

He lets go of her. He coughs, ensuring his voice is clear.

“But no more _lying_. Do you hear? And I mean it, Theodosia Burr.”

Theodosia kisses his cheek.

“Yes, sir.”

Gently, Burr kisses the top of his daughter’s head. 

“Father,” she chimes, “Can we join the Hamiltons for breakfast?”

Forgetting his nausea until that point, Burr’s face sours. He really doesn’t want to, but his daughter’s eyes are eager. 

“Well,” Burr hums, “I suppose we could… sneak down.”

“Thank you, Papa!” Theodosia cheers, “I’ll have to change, but I’ll be right down!”

“Oh,” Burr stumbles, “O-Of course.”

He briskly leaves and shuts the door. Turning the corner, Burr tumbles down the stairs once more. Through the parlor, Burr enters the busy kitchen. It looks like Philip is the only one still sitting. 

From his porridge, the young man looks up. He looks Burr in the eye. He gulps.

_‘Oh, fuuuu-’_

“ **Burr**!”

Philip’s father’s voice sounds elated.

“So glad you could make it! Biscuit?”

Burr raises a hand, “Theodosia will be along to eat in a minute.”

Alexander hums, “Ah, I see.”

“Yes, I-”

Burr feels tiny hands clutch his knee. 

“Hi, horsey man!”

It’s William.

“ **_William_ ** !” Eliza scolds, “Your manners! Good morning, _Mr. Burr_.”

“Ms. Hamilton,” he bows, looking softly to the tot, “Hello, William.”

“Can we play again today?”

Eliza chimes, “We’d best be on our way.”

Eliza’s cheeks are crimson as she rushes off with her son.

Alexander looks on, giggling a bit. That’s when he hears his eldest go into a coughing fit.

Alex calls to him, “Serves you right for jumping into a frozen lake.”

“It’s not like I did it for _fun_ , for God’s sake!”

“Watch your **tone** ,” Alex scolds, grabbing a scone. 

“Alexander,” Burr intrudes, “Could I talk with your boy... _alone_?”

Alex looks over to his son. Philip’s eyes are scared and pure.

Alexander looks back at Burr and shrugs, “Sure.”

“ **_Pops._ **” 

Alexander winks to Philip, who’s weak in the knees. He promptly claps Burr’s shoulder.

“Take all the time you need.”

Burr’s eyes follow him as he exits. Once he’s gone, Burr sits down across the table from Philip. He doesn’t say a word. He just looks Philip in the eye. Philip feels his body shivering.

_‘Face him like a man. Don’t cry.’_

Uneasily, Philip shimmies in his seat and stirs.

“Um… Hhhow are you feeling, Mr. Burr?”

“ _Young man_ ,” Burr’s voice booms, “Let’s get straight to the point.”

“Sir?” he stupidly asks, “This... is about what happened last night?”

Burr nods, “To be sure.”

Philip swallows, “Mr. Burr-”

Burr dismisses the boy, holds a palm to his face. Philip gasps.

“There are some lapses,” Burr continues, “But I recall the gist of what happened.”

Burr slams his hand on the table. Philip’s spine goes erect.

“Young man, you are to treat my daughter with utmost **respect** . She can’t be _courting_ a ruffian. She has a legacy to protect.”

Philip beams.

“D...Does that mean-”

“ **_Young man,_ **you’ll treat my daughter well. Am I understood?”

“As good as gold and better!”

Burr nods.

“Good. And you’d **better** do it. ‘Cuz if not-”

Burr sneers.

“I won’t hesitate to break **every** bone in your body.”

Philip wildly shakes his head. The two pause at the sound of footsteps.

“Papa?”

Theodosia enters, tilts her head.

“Philip?”

She cautiously sits down by Burr.

“Wwwwhat’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing!” Burr smiles slyly.

He hands his daughter a hot-crossed bun.

“‘Merely having a conversation with Mr. Hamilton.”

Philip nods uncomfortably.

“Indeed,” the teen states, unease on his face.

She stares at the men. Their queasy smiles are still on her. 

Theo mumbles, “O...kay, sure.”

* * *

With the Senator still recovering from his rough evening, the Burrs stay through supper. 

“You’re both leaving?” Eliza asks, “Are you feeling well enough to travel, Mr. Burr?”

“Quite sure,” Burr insists, “We’ve inconvenienced you enough, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“You’ve been no bother at all,” Eliza replies, “Children! Come say goodbye.”

As she grabs her cloak, all the Hamiltons rush to hug Theodosia.

“Do you really _have_ to leave?”

“Angelica, I’m afraid so.”

John calls, “C’mon!” 

Alexander Junior chants, “Yeah, _please_ don’t go!”

Meanwhile, Burr stares at the scene. He feels a familiar grip brace his knees.

“‘Bye, pony man,” William sighs. 

The child clearly has tears in his eyes. Burr looks down, pats the boy’s head.

“Maybe… One day, we can play again.”

William’s smile is at its brim.

“Hooray!”

Burr continues to strap his cloak in. He hears someone clear his throat. As he turns, who else would be there, at the front door?

The Bastard. Orphan. Son of a whore.

“Burr,” Alexander whispers, “Thank you.”

Two words Burr never thought Hamilton knew. Burr looks down at Hamilton’s outstretched hand.

“Alexander, this changes nothing. You understand?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Burr.”

“And Alexander.”

“Sir?”

Burr’s eyes water. 

“Thank you and… _Philip_ for taking care of my daughter.”

They shake hands. Alexander glances at his current rival. His former idol. His former brother-in-arms. His former co-counselman.

...His former friend.

Alexander goes to open the door when Burr speaks.

“And Alexander?”

Alexander smirks.

“Aaron?”

Burr smirks.

“Let’s never speak of this again.”

“Agreed.”

The Hamiltons are all standing in the doorway. The head of the house opens the door, the cold air rushing through. From behind it, Philip muffles a-

“ _Hhrr’aa_ **_aschooo_ **!”

Burr turns. His brow furrows.

“Young man.”

“S-sir?”

Burr says softly, “Christmas is coming.”

Alex whispers to his wife, “So is Paul Revere.”

Eliza hisses, “ _Alexander_!”

“What?” Burr questions.

Alex chuckles, “Nothing.”

Burr clears his throat.

“Hate the sin, love the sinner,” he turns to Philip, “Perhaps, you can join us for Christmas dinner.”

Philip, while startled, smiles.

“I’d like that very much, sir! Thank you!”

“No,” Burr extends his hand, “Thank _you._ ”

Philip shakes it. He takes a quick glance behind Burr. He locks eyes with Theodosia. His cheeks, once again, are rosy. 

Burr takes notice. He looks at the children, then to Alexander. His rival is shrugging. Burr coughs, making sure is voice is clear. 

“Theodosia, I’ll ready the horse. Stay right here?”

“Yes Papa, of course.”

With all the other Hamiltons gone, Alexander claps the shoulder of his son. 

“Son, it’s getting cold.”

Philip looks back desperately.

“Pops?”

Alexander winks and heads inside.

“Not too long.”

Philip cranes his neck, ensuring that his father is gone. He gently cradles Theodosia’s hand into his own. Her piercing, hazel eyes reflect against the falling snow.

She shrugs her shoulders.

“So?”

“So... Some day, huh?”

“You said it.”

Philip blushes. 

“I’m... glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah. Well, thanks to _you_.”

Philip waves her off.

“Ah, what’d I do?”

“Jumped into a frozen lake to save me, like a lunatic!”

“I needed a shower anyway. ‘Did the trick.”

They both giggle a bit. He pulls tighter Theo’s cloak. 

“‘Y'sure you’re bundled up enough for the trip home?”

She winks.

“I’ve got somethin’ on my mind to keep me warm.”

His eyebrow quirks, brushing his hands through his curly mane. 

“Jusqu'à samedi prochain.”

“Ugh,” Theo groans, “Next Saturday seems so far away.”

Gently, Philip caresses Theodosia’s cheek. Closer, his nose is barely an inch from her ear.

She hears him say, “Well, this oughtta hold you over ‘til Saturday.”

Ever so lightly, he kisses her cheek. Theodosia squeaks. She feels her knees go weak. As she laughs, Theodosia tussles Philip’s curls: now covered in snow. She jerks her head as her father calls.

“THEODOSIA. LET’S GO.”

Philip extends his arm. Theo takes it. Through the crunches of snow, eventually, they make it. Philip steadily assists her as she hops on the horse. Burr tips his hat, readying for their course. His tongue clicks, commanding the horse to go.

Theodosia blows a kiss.

“‘Bye Pip.”

Philip waves.

“See ya, Theo.”

Wistfully, Philip sighs. He watches them ride off into the night by the light of the moon. It’s brighter than usual. Or maybe, it’s just the stars caught in his eyes. The reflections of the sparkling snow speck below him. That’s when a rapier wind rips right through him.

“Shit, it’s cold.”

“PHILIP.”

_‘That’s not the wind.’_

He hugs himself for warmth, turning to face his house as he stands on the lawn.

Alex yells, “Y’PLANNING TO STAY OUT THERE ‘TIL DAWN?!”

Philip calls back, “I was just coming! I swear, I-”

“YOUNG MAN,” Alexander chides, “YOU’RE STILL SICK. **GET INSIDE**.”

“OKAY!”

As he runs, the winter wind continues to sway. Quite like Theodosia… It blows him away.


End file.
